A game of Soccer

My body is trying to recuperate after a good, intense game of soccer last Friday. The event was hosted by a college friend of my husband's as he discovered a soccer field on the grounds of the University; hidden behind a street overlapping big gigantic trees -- providing shadow to Rice Blvd and its many joggers, nature lovers and dog walkers.

As an adventurer myself, I was immediately drawn to this street and felt as if a pivotal part of Houston was deprived of my compliments and recognition. I am sure there are many more beautiful "undiscovered" spots that need an eye for appreciation. This time however, I was in awe with the overpowering presence, yet the utilizing factor to what Mother Nature does as time goes by. Trees, in all their majestic postures, may cover a street with their coolness and beatifications; they are in fact alive and I truly believe in their very own characters, moods and growth forms. The neighborhood of Rice Blvd is exactly the place where one would love to have his/her home, going back into the cozy environment of old homes surrounded with trees older than your own existence. It surely has a "winnie the pooh" joyfulness I find; hopping down the street, making a tree house, holding bar-b-q's, inviting all of your family and friends onto your terrace overlooking trees to climb on and claim as your very own... :)


We arrived precisely on time for the game. I was unaware of how the proceedings would take place, as it was my very first time taking part of a soccer game in Texas and meeting the people who'd organized this event. My husband Azam, had in the previous week laid his ground stone by scoring a couple of goals and impressing his fellow players with all the tricks he's been carrying in his hat. The game was fun, spontaneous and in the preparation of selecting team mates, the 'left overs' which included me (since no one was aware of my soccer talents yet!)stood facing the two team captains with merciful eyes and hopeful face expressions which I thought I'd left behind in High School. The same feelings still made their way through adulthood while I was standing there nonchalantly thinking to myself that I've been there once before, in the past. During the 45 minutes of "gym" as we'd call it, the brown girl with glasses was chosen until the end, ha ha and deja vu, here we go again. :)
Oh no hard feelings, I am just reminiscing classic high school moments I am sure everyone must remember; to each their own.


So at last I am chosen into the opposite team of my husband's, which is better since I wanted to show him off anyways; let the challenge begin hubby dear! Through poking Azam and making faces of superiority I felt as if this time I was the one who could reign on the field and he could have his way at home. What a better battle field to choose than a game of soccer!
As a defender in front of the goal keeper, I kept my pace steady and concentrated on all the dangerous players who were tricky with the ball in passing through, some of 'em I managed to tackle and some of 'em were too fast to stop.


I am surprised at my very own energy though; in Holland soccer was not only a sport but a passion. I grew up playing soccer with boys in the neighborhood and not once did I ever think of myself being different than the rest of the guys. Soccer was a mission, a beautiful footwork combination of the foot with the ball. I think the same feelings of dutch patriotism came back flowing into my physique past Friday and I enjoyed every bit of it, tasting my childhood while it brought back sweet memories of orange colored festivities all throughout the city of Purmerend, Holland.

The "orange" in me hasn't died, I suppose.